


Like Sailing

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Isabela and Merrill being besties is super important to me okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill innocently asks about Isabela and Hawke's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Sailing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaemonMeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaemonMeg/gifts).



Merrill stirs honey in the tea, peach-and-summer rising from the mug she sets in front of Isabela, chirping yet another apology for her spotless little hovel as Isabela slips a honeyed date on her friend’s plate.

“Kitten, it’s perfect. You’d apologize to your own shadow if you step on it,” Isabela says, tapping a sticky finger to Merrill’s nose.

Merrill rubs the honey off with the back of her hand, eyes wide with horror. “I never have! Should I? Do you imagine shadows have feelings, Isabela?”

“Only as much as the people who cast them, I would think.”

Merrill chews that over, cheeks bulging as she pops the date whole into her mouth. Nibbling around the pit, spitting it on her plate with a ‘thunk!’ far daintier than it has any right to be. Merrill manages adorable even when oozing green from her nostrils and crisping a fever. Not right, that. Sweet thing, even with her hands all silvered with whisper-thin scars, little prices paid willingly for her power.

“But I do not wish to speak of shadows, Isabela.”

Isabela smiles, expecting her to request tales of the surf and the sea, the deck rolling beneath her feet and salt on her tongue, little adventure-stories and sweetly woven lies cast over the shabbier parts of it.

“Is Hawke like sailing?”

Well… Isabela was still right. Sort of. She counts it a victory anyway, because she isn’t above cheating even when it’s against herself.

“How so, dear?”

“When she’s right… is there nothing in the world like it?”

Oh. _Oh_.

Crescent-moon smile, eyes sparkling like sun on the ocean-- how to describe her? How to describe the leap in her throat, the pulse of Hawke’s heart beneath her head, the tide’s own rhythm in flesh? The way they crash and sigh like waves against the shore?

“Yes,” is all she says. All she _can_ say.

But from Merrill’s smile, that is ample confession.


End file.
